Those Whispers
by Tarafina
Summary: Because the world needs more of those whispers... Oh, those whispers. :Chloe/Dean:


**Title**: Those Whispers  
**Category**: Smallville/Supernatural  
**Rating**: T**  
Genre**: Romance  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Dean  
**Prompt**: #03 - Whisper  
**Word Count**: 947**  
Summary**: Because the world needs more of those whispers... Oh, those whispers.

_**Those Whispers**  
_1/1

He never really _says _it. He doesn't growl it in the middle of sex or yell it whenever they're fighting as if it's some kind of excuse. He never declares it to make her smile or tease her with the words randomly. She's only heard those three words a couple handfuls of times, each more cherished than the last. He's always holding her, his face turned away as if he can't quite look at her, can't expose himself _that _much. But his arms are slung low on her hips, his face in the crook of her neck and he inhales the scent of her hair, his body seeming to relax at that small comfort.

There's no set time or reason to it. It can be after she's nearly died or he nearly has. Late night or early morning, mid afternoon or as the sun is setting in the distance as they sit in the Impala after a finished dinner of fast food burgers and half-melted milkshakes. He doesn't explain why and he never really expects her to say it back. He just says it, puts it out there and goes back to whatever it was he doing before that.

It's been so long, she sometimes can't remember how they got here. What brought her from the city girl living in Metropolis, a famed investigative reporter and then Justice League correspondent to the girlfriend of a demon hunter, the fact checker and his partner. She knows she met him sometime shortly before Sam handed in the sawed off and went back to college; it was time for him to live his own life. He was a good guy; smart and kind and less rough around the edges than Dean was. He could belong at college, could still fit in if he tried. But Dean was past that, didn't want that for himself. He lived and breathed the open road.

They were an unusual duo at first, playing hunter and huntress with only a shaky friendship between them. She was a quick learner though and she knew her weird stuff, so he didn't brush her off like he might've someone else. And it wasn't long before they learned that they could use their odd coupling to their advantage. A man and a woman were less suspicious than two brothers suddenly showing up. Plus, bar patrons suspected she couldn't play pool very well, were more up to the challenge than taking on Dean. But with him as her tutor, she learned the tricks of the trade and by the end of the night they had wads of cash in their pockets and grins on their faces.

It wasn't all fun and games; she learned fast that it was a dark lifestyle and not always rewarding. But she stuck by him; never let it get to her. There had been a few times when she broke down in tears, when she screamed and yelled and begged some higher power for an answer to the big question. Why? Why this person? Why not somebody else? Why couldn't they save them? But she got no answer and despite hating chick-flick moments, he would hold her. He wouldn't say a damn word, but he'd hold her until she stopped soggying his shirt with her tears and sobbing into his chest, until she was fast asleep in his lap. And then he'd tuck her into bed and by the next day, it was forgotten. Just a, "You up yet, Blondie? I wanna get some grub!" And they'd be back to their usual selves.

She's not sure when their friendship/partnership turned into something more. She's been on the road with him more years than she's ever taken the time to count. She stays in contact with the League, Clark and Lois, but her life is elsewhere now and she likes it that way. It's not always safe, but she's content where she is. And she can no longer imagine a life that doesn't have the wind rushing through her hair or the growl of the Impala's engine rumbling all around her. And more than all of that, she can't think of a future that doesn't have him in it. He belongs here and if she were ever to leave, she knows he wouldn't come. He'd want to and he'd consider it. But in the end, he'd let her go and he'd go back to being one dark and lonely individual which she can't let happen. Because the world needs more of Dean's laughter, more of his down to the grit grins and his off the cuff remarks about this or that. It needs more of his sarcasm and raised, knowing eyebrows. More of his humor and happiness and more of those whispers...

Oh those whispers...

The ones that come out of nowhere, with no rhyme or reason, against her ear as he holds her tight.

"_I love you_."

Nothing more or less.

She can feel the whiskers shadowing his cheek brush hers, the heat of his body pressed against her side, the stroke of his fingers on her back. And when he steps away, she feels those words right down to the deepest part of herself, sitting there, warming her, keeping her going, on to the next hunt, the next day which promises neither darkness nor light.

She leans back into the seat of the Impala, takes his hand in hers, twines their fingers and holds it tight between her thighs.

Led Zeppelin is rocking in the background and she can hear him singing under his breath, calm and content with the world as it is for that moment. And that's all she asks for anymore.


End file.
